


Years Ago

by PossiblyHuman



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Other, could turn violent in future chapters, no romance yet but maybe later, who knows with demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PossiblyHuman/pseuds/PossiblyHuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanford Pines summons Bill Cipher in an attempt to find his brother's journal. He ends up making a deal with the demon and causes his brother's disappearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not continue. This is partially based off of a theory I have about Stanley's disappearance, but with a bit of non-canon writer's artistic liberty. There will probably be more chapters, and I could write pairings into this or make a pairing fic to the side, if anyone thinks I should.

"What'll it be kid?" The nasally, amused voice asked him, the owner of it twirling a cane.  
  
Stanley stared at the triangle, warning bells going off in his head. Sure, he was desperate, but he wasn't certain Bill Cipher was a good solution to the problem at hand.  
  
He had summoned him, going mainly by pages from the rough draft of the journal he found in the house, knowing his brother had asked Bill many times for answers to the mysteries in Gravity Falls. Stanley followed Stanford a few times into his dreams, following the instructions theorized in his brother's journal, curious about who Bill Cipher was. After watching the twisted jokes (usually involving blood or gore) and strange stories (also involving blood and gore) from afar, he was put off. The triangular demon made him feel nervous, a tougher feat than one would think, as he went to prison with hardened criminals and was never nervous around them. He tried to warn his brother about his misgivings about the creepy triangle, but his brother dismissed the warnings, angry that Stanley had followed him into his dreams and brushed his actual worry off as paranoia from the word "demon".  
  
Maybe the better idea would to be to ask his brother for help, but his twin, having grown up solving his problems his whole life, would not be very friendly or willing to help Stanley out. Stanley had been making himself stronger, by force originally of his father, and then eventually continuing so that he would be more dependent on his self rather than his twin anyway. Besides, this issue could get Stanford really angry at him. He didn't want that. The two barely got along in the first place, and this issue would only cause Stanford to fully lose trust in him, and probably worse. His brother had a temper and would often go over board when angry about something, and would probably never talk to him again, if not disown him or attack him, making it vital he fixed this problem without him.  
  
Stanley lost Journal #1.  
  
He had no idea where it had gone, and it was only a matter of time before Stanford asked for it back from him, wanting to add more to it. He had lost the Journal weeks ago, and had been trying desperately to find it ever since. Luckily, his brother had been off with his family for a while, out of Gravity Falls, but he knew he would return soon for his summer research. Stanley tore the shack apart looking for the thing.  
  
It was really gone, and today was the day his brother was supposed to return. Stanley was out of ideas and, after sleepless nights of pondering whether he should summon the triangle, he finally did it early in the morning on the day of his brother's arrival.  
  
The triangle had popped out of the sky, laughing manically as the real world faded to the dream world's muted colors. Bill did a sort of double take at seeing Stanley in the circle, not his twin, and then his eye crinkled, the closest thing to a huge grin he could manage.  
  
"Stanley Pines. What a surprise! Haha! So what do I owe the pleasure of being summoned by the Big Fish?" The demon asked the last part as a question, but Stan knew he already knew the answer and the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the thought. He cleared his throat, before asking:  
"Do you know the whereabouts of my brother's journal?"  
  
"Of course I do!" Bill exclaimed, laughing. Stanley waited for the demon to tell him, but the eye just stared at him.  
  
"Well?" He demanded. "Whe-"  
  
"Hold your horses." Bill cut in, snapping his fingers to cause a horse to fall from the sky inches in front of Stanley. It hit the ground with a sickening crunch and Stan yelled in surprise and fell backwards, sliding as far away from the horse as possible. Bill followed him, clearly amused. He dropped down to half a foot above Stan, trapping him where he was and making the man extremely uncomfortable being so close to an insane demon, and popped out a cane from nowhere, leaning on it.  
  
"I don't give anything for free. I want something from you."  
  
Stan's stomach dropped. Of course not. His brother got free answers, but apparently not him.  
  
"Like what? My spinal cord, my dreams, my sanity?" Stan asked frantically, assuming the worst.  
  
Bill Cipher laughed. "No, No! I promise nothing like that! Don't worry about what I need, it won't harm you."  
  
Stan choked out a laugh. "Excuse me if I don't believe that bullshit from a demon."  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to, but if it makes you feel any better, I am bound to my contract's terms when they are made. As long as you fulfill your end, I'll fulfill mine."  
  
Stan nodded slowly, but was still uneasy about making a contract he didn't know the other end of. "I want to know what I have to do."  
  
"I just need to use you for two minutes at a time I choose." Bill responded casually.  
  
"Use me?" The young man asked. He didn't like the sound of that. "In what way?"  
  
"Listen kid, I'd love to tell you. But, your brother is going to walk into your house in exactly two minutes. I'm assuming you need that time to clean up this mess you left in the living room to summon me."  
  
Stan's senses screamed at him not to do it blind, as a scammer himself he didn't trust open ended contracts. He frowned, the demon was a master of dreams, surely he could affect the time it took outside a dream. "But can't you lengthen-"  
  
"You want another contract? I can't guarantee the second one wouldn't harm you. I have been curious about the long-term durability of a human body to extreme torture..."  
  
"Can't you make it a part of the contract? It can't be that hard to-"  
  
"Completely different skill set."  
  
Stan's mind reeled; he now only had less than a minute and a half until his brother walked through his door.  
  
"What'll it be, kid?"  
  
Stanley thought about the possible consequences of two minutes. They didn't seem that bad, right? Depending on what "using him" meant...He could end up dying anyway.  
  
"One minute." The triangle basically sang.  
  
"Can't I give you a couple of years of my life or something instead?"  
  
"I'll trade that for 1 minute and 30 seconds of using you." Bill replied in an almost bored tone. "But I doubt you'd give me the amount I wanted. 30 seconds."  
  
"How many years?" Stan asked cautiously. Thirty seconds of controlling his body wasn't that long, if he was judging by how quickly these seconds were slipping away from him now.  
  
"Twenty."  
  
"What? That's not worth the location of a journal!"  
  
"Oh oops. Did I not mention I had the journal?" Bill said innocently, pulling the journal out in a burst of blue flame. "How absent-minded of me. 10 seconds."  
  
"What??" Stanley shouted. He had no choice now, and no time to think. He didn't like this.  
  
"9"  
  
He had to do the deal, but still didn't want to give up two whole minutes to a demon, who knows what he could do with that.  
  
"8"  
  
"10 years!"  
  
"7 seconds." Bill replied. He put his hand out to Stanley, flaming blue. "Is that a deal? 6. Don't forget my time. 5."  
  
"Goddammit."  
  
"4. That's not an answer. 3." Bill wiggled his fingers in front of Stan. "Tick tock. 2."  
  
"Fine!" Stan snapped, grabbing his hand. The little fingers tightened on his in a painfully strong grip.

"See you in your dreams, kid." Laughter surrounded him and his whole body caught flames before he was jerked awake.  
  
Journal #1 thumped down next to where he was lying on the floor. The front door opened. His brother was home.  
  
Stanley sat up quickly and caught his brother's eyes, which, behind the round glasses, were wide, taking in the scene of an obvious recent summoning.  
  
"Stanley what did you do?"


	2. Left Hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley gets fed up with this demon.

Stanley's eyes darted between the circle and Stanford. "I have a really good explanation for this. You see...I had some questions."  
  
Stanford lugged his suitcase through the door, closing it behind him. He pulled it into the living room and moved it to the side. He scrutinized his twin, who thought he probably looked like utter hell.  
  
"If you had questions, you could have answered them by calling me. Bill is trustworthy under the right circumstances, but only if you handle him correctly.”  
  
It was a little late for the advice from his brother, which could have come in handy before he had summoned the blasted triangle. Stanley scrambled for something convincing and distracting, knowing his twin wasn't fooled as easily as most people. "I didn't think you'd know. Plus, I didn't want to bother you and your new family. How are they, by the way?"  
  
Stanford, not completely satisfied by the answer, answered. "My wife and unborn son are fine-I thought you despised Bill."  
  
"I did, but now I think he's not so bad after all." Stanley swallowed, pushing as much honesty into his words as possible. "He helped me understand."  
  
Stanford's eyebrows rose. "Are you admitting you were wrong about Bill?"  
  
_No._  He screamed internally. _In fact, he’s worse than I thought!_  "Yes."  
  
"Well, that's a surprise." Stanford stated, dismissing the topic. "Are you going to help me with my bags?"  
  
"Of course."  
\--  
  
The day with Stanford had been uneventful, he returned Journal #1 to his brother unceremoniously and they had eaten dinner together. It was stiff conversation, and even though the two of them hadn't seen each other in months, there was a barrier between the two of them. It was clear to Stanley that his brother wanted to get back to his research right away. Stanley tried to keep up conversation that would interest his brother, but it was clear to him that his brother didn't want to talk, his mind was already drifting to the mysteries of Gravity Falls. Stanley had joined his brother enthusiastically in these mysteries at first, but eventually broke away from them, not liking the obsessive and changed man his brother had become because of this infatuation with finding every single answer to every single slight strange thing that happened.

He found himself covering both sides of the current conversation with mundane events and jokes about tourists that made their way to his shack. In his exhausted state, he couldn't keep it up for long. In times like these, it was better to just let the other twin go off and do his thing. It upset Stanley to not be as close as they were as kids, but the two had grown up into very different people. He momentarily caught his brother’s interest again when he mentioned a strange fez he found near the shack a few weeks ago, but that just made his brother more eager to leave and investigate what he had missed. They eventually fell into an awkward silence. Stanford seized the opportunity and excused himself to return to his journals and research.  
  
Stanley slumped in his chair after his twin left, exhausted to the point of passing out, and covered his face in his hands. Now that he was alone, the weight of his deal with Bill was sinking into him. Ten years. His eyelids drooped, and he forced them back open, he needed to think. He didn't know when it was going to happen to him, he was 23 right now and he was going to be 33 by the time the deal came through.

  _If it came through within the next few months._  He thought grimly.

He could be stuck with Bill until the end of his days, Bill could take those years when he was 70 and send him straight to his deathbed if he wished to. He was confused to why it didn't happen right away, but that just meant that whenever it happened it would be harder to explain to his twin why all the sudden he was so much older than him. Was the journal worth that? Stanford might argue that it was, and sure, Stanley had panicked when Bill revealed that he actually  _had_ the damn thing, but was it really worth it? It was his brother's life work; Stanley decided it was worth a little loss. _But what if he makes a deal this bad with Stanford?_  It would be a twisted thing to do, to trick both twins into making deals with Bill, but Stanley had no doubt he could.  
  
"Damn it." He muttered. Bill was not to be trusted, that there was so much more to him than just his brother's innocent, helpful informant.  
  
"I wouldn't sweat it too much," commented a lazy voice to his right. Stanley froze. Bill.  
  
He rose his head from his hands looking over to his right. Sure enough, Bill was there. What was he doing there? Maybe he was asleep. He must have drifted off to sleep sometimes while he was thinking, if he had done it voluntarily. He could have just as easily been put under by the creepy, yellow nightmare. He glared at the demon.  
  
"Whoa put a can on that hostility, Big Fish.” A can dropped in front of Stanley, who refused to look inside, expecting something horrific. He sensed Bill’s disappointment of him not playing along with the trick, but the demon carried on with his words. “I didn’t put you to sleep, you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while, your body gave out on its own."  
  
"When are you going to take your part of the deal?" Stan demanded, choosing to ignore what Bill had said about not putting him to sleep. "And what the hell is with "Big Fish"? That's a stupid nickname."  
  
"One, when I feel like it. And two, Big Fish is literally you."  
  
"So glad you cleared that up.” Stanley’s face heated up as he became more and more angry at Bill’s vague answers that seemed to only lead to manipulation. “Now go the hell away and let me sleep, you yellow bricked, idiotic, greed fueled, faceless monster who is nothing but a child’s nightmare. You can't do anything without tricking people into it." Stanley turned away from Bill, fully prepared to ignore the yellow triangle. He heard a snap of fingers and he was spun back around to face Bill, who had turned red in anger.  
  
"I don't think you realize what situation you're in, kid." Stanley tried to stand up out of his chair, but found he couldn't move. Bill continued to speak, fiddling around with some items on the kitchen table, ignoring Stan's struggles. "Let me clear it up for you. Your brother is in constant contact with me, and I could very easily tell him everything that happened. I know you don't want that."  
  
"If this is a trick to make me go into another deal with you..." Stanley spat between his teeth.  
  
"Quiet,” Bill turned to him and held Stan’s jaw in a vice-like hold. “I wasn't done. No it's not, though I could probably tempt you with a lot of things. You are a fool, you stupid human. I have complete use of you for thirty seconds whenever I choose. You have no idea how long I can make that stretch out for you, how much I can make it torturous to your mind, your bones, even your skin." The triangle paused, letting his threats sink in and releasing Stanley’s jaw, then continued, "Before you insult me, or ridicule me, or are just a tad  _too_  rude to me, remember I'm here until I fulfill our plan and I can and  _will_  make your life and dreams a living hell."  
  
Stanley dropped his gaze and clenched his fists, never one to like doing what he was told. Not since his childhood. He was determined to make whatever Bill's plans were as hard as possible to bring to fruition. He knew the demon wasn’t joking about the mental torture, but he also knew that whatever Bill had planned was big, and definitely not good. Bill could make his dreams terrible, but he doubted Bill would tell Stanford about the deal, or damage Stanley until he needed to. He could call those bluffs.

Telling Stanford might get him in trouble with him, but it would reveal Bill for what he was, even if it could ruin their relationship even further. Stanley didn’t want that, he didn’t want to put the final brick in the wall between the two inseparable Mystery Twins. Maybe Stanford would forgive him, since he got the Journal back.

  
"You put too much faith in your brother." Bill commented, his color fading back gradually to its original yellow as he eavesdropped on Stanley’s thoughts. "Your brotherly relationship is pretty one sided. You care more about him than he does about you."  
  
That stung. It was obvious the two of them didn't get along very well, and Stanford was pretty distant from Stanley, but they were brothers and both cared. Bill laughed at his thoughts, which pissed Stanley off to no end. He wanted him out of his head. He stared down at his clenched fists, his body still stuck in his chair and wanted them to move, he wanted them to do one thing. These were his dreams, his thoughts, and he didn't want Bill here. He willed his arms to move with these thoughts and they did quickly, and before he knew it one of his fists was flying towards Bill. It went into his eye, and to Stan’s pleasure, he actually felt it hit him. With his triumph at controlling this small part of his dream, he yelled out his catchphrase.  
  
"Left hook!"


	3. Resilience

After the initial connection, a feeling of dread overtook Stanley. He had just punched a demon. Right after the demon had finished threatening him, and  _none too lightly_. This was why most people thought Stanford was so much smarter than Stanley. It wasn't true, Stanford just thought his actions through carefully, while Stanley tended to act first. Stanford was also a genius, so anything and everything Stanley did was always compared to his twin.

The two had gotten around the same grades their whole time through school, except Stanley originally flunked gym, while Stanford had always been good at athletics as well as his other subjects. Stanley was really good with money, unsurprisingly, but Stanford was stronger than Stanley, though that was more recent. This was something both of them knew, and Stanley had always protected Stanford from bullies when they were younger, if he was there to see things happen. Stanley also experienced quite a bit of harassment (mostly getting beat up) from the other students, and would always complain to Stanford about it. Stanley knew he had dealt with his issues with a sense of love and caring, but also obligation and exasperation. It wasn’t something he or his father could handle, and Stanley had made himself stronger, so he would never fall victim to someone stronger than him again.

He knew he was no match for Bill Cipher, and jerked his fist away from his eye immediately. Fear enveloped him as he waited for Bill to react, presumably to hurt him. The demon’s eye blinked open coldly, staring Stan down. He could feel the seething rage from the demon rolling off of him...

Then the thing started laughing.

Stanley went rigid in his seat, terrified, listening to the demon laugh, and laugh, and laugh. It was crazed, but mirthful, honest, but fake. Stan didn't know what to think about this. Shouldn't the demon be mad? He thought he was going to be punished? He thought he was going to be in pain?

"Haha! Don't be so eager, kid!" Bill cackled, wiping his eye as his laughter came to a stop. "There will be time for that!" Bill floated around Stan, inspecting him, giggles still occasionally rushing to the surface.

"What I want to know is how you did it? Most people don't figure out the dreamscape trick without a little help, and I know your brother didn't show you." The isosceles nightmare lifted his left arm, twisting it in painful ways as he looked at it.

"You really are something, Big Fish." Stan winced, but remained silent. He didn't want to say anything if it meant he had a little bit of an advantage over Bill. Bill's eye widened at that thought.

"Oh no, Stanley. You misunderstand me. You just caught me by surprise. You can try and control your mind aaaall you want, you won't be able to keep it up forever. You aren't getting rid of me. You did try to hurt me though, and that punch was no joking matter..." Bill dropped his arm and retreated back away from him, pondering. "I know! I'll take one of the years now! Oh boy, this will be unpleasant."

Bill reached for Stanley, and Stan's body was burning. Every possible injury of the next year was felt at once, as well as every emotion that year would have brought, and the possible events that could have taken place also passed. It was overwhelming, painful, and it felt like it dragged on for the entire course of the time that was taken away. When it was finally over, Bill was gone, and Stanley's face felt wet, his head pounding as his dreams went black.

\---

He jerked awake, feeling someone shaking him. He was in the armchair in the living room, with a blanket over top of him. Everything was blurry, until a hand slipped his glasses over his eyes. He blinked at the sudden vision and turned to the shape above him.

"Stanford?"

"You fell asleep at the table the other night." His twin replied, sitting across from him on the floor and placing down a stack of papers with scribbles and notes all over it. Stanford spread the papers around and focused in on them, while continuing the conversation. "I decided two days of sleep were enough."

Stanley rubbed his eyes, he was still tired. "Two days? Really?"

Stanford nodded, writing something on one of the papers and smiling a little.

"You haven't done something like that in a while. I had to drag you to the chair so you wouldn't hurt yourself too badly sleeping on wood."

"You didn't have to do that." Stanley replied, stretching. "Did you try waking me up?"

"You were out cold. How long had it been since you slept?" Stanford paused halfway through one of his hastily written sentences to glare at his brother. "You ridicule me enough when I do things like that."

"Yeah well," Stanley stood up, his legs wobbly. He must look terrible. "It was only a few days. Make any mindblowing discoveries while I was out?"

Stanford shrugged. "Nothing definite, but I may have figured out how to theoretically make a portal to other worlds."

Stanley stared at his brother.

"Really? That's fucking wild."

Stanfrd nodded, going back to his work. Stanley decided to leave him, wincing as he tried to walk over to the kitchen. His body hurt, and he was sure it had to do with Bill Cipher ripping a year from him. He stumbled to the cabinet and found something that didn't look like it was too expired, and devoured it quickly, leaning against the kitchen table. His muscles and bones were still screaming at him and he made a face, muttering:

"Ugh. "Unpleasant." That's a hell of an understatement." Knowing the pain of losing just 1 year, Stanley was even more hesitant in telling Stanford about what had happened, no doubt Bill could do worse, and he still had 9 more years of Stanley's at his disposure. He pushed himself back into the living room, using any furniture and the wall to support him, over to the stairs. He planned on climbing them and then not coming down until his new, year older, body felt fine. Stanley followed his jerky, painful movements with his eyes, and Stanley avoided catching his twin's eye, not wanting to have to answer any questions.

His eyes snagged on his new fez, and he picked it up for a moment, pausing at the stairs. He was suddenly struck, and mildly horrified, with what the symbol was.

BIG FISH.

He'd been watching Stanley and planning an opportunity to make a deal with him for a long time. Stanley grimaced and crept slowly up the stairs, bringing the fez with him. He made his way all the way up to the attic room before he slumped to the ground, exhausted and still in pain. He was now 24, getting a year older shouldn't hurt so much. Or was he technically still 23, just with one year less to live? He didn't know which was meant, but he assumed it was the former, not the latter.

Stanley looked at the fez once again that marked him as "Big Fish", a fez he was just a few weeks ago excited about finding, and threw it across the room. Now that he knew Bill associated with it, he wished he hadn't found it at all. He wanted nothing to do with Bill's nickname for him, or Bill Cipher at all.

Stanley leaned against the wall in the attic, wincing at the splintered wood digging into his back as he slid to the ground. He was almost resigned to his fate of losing the other 9 years. An entire decade. He'd be dead long before his ex-twin.

He couldn't give up like this, he needed answers, he wasn't ready to give up life. He'd been in just as dangerous situations before in Columbia. Stanley wasn't about to let some triangle with fashion sense stuck in the 1800s push him around. What Bill wanted was big, and would no doubt hurt a lot of people, probably including his brother. He may have been a scammer and didn't like nor trust most people, but they deserved to at least be injured or killed by their own stupid actions, not the actions of the deranged demon Bill. He was going to fight back, to find his answers. Even if he didn't sleep or eat.

Even if it killed him.


	4. Stanley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford wonders what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POV switches a little during this chapter, I made dividers to show you when it happens.

Stanford didn't know what was going on with his brother. Stanley had always basically clung to Stanford's side whenever he visited, but his brother had been avoiding him like the plague. Not to mention when he did see him, he looked like he hadn't slept in a week and hadn't been eating, either.

If it had been any other time, Stanford might have cornered his brother and asked him about it, but he was having a major breakthrough here, and Stanley knew it too. The situation became more dire when his assistant, McGucket, went on an extended leave, with promises to return in a year or two. He couldn't afford to spend time on Stanley right now.

"He can handle himself," he muttered, connecting parts of a diagram. "It's probably just some girl or something money related." A little part of him wanted to help his brother out like he used to, but Stanley was old enough to make his own choices.

Even if the choices involved him passing out on the stairs? Or collapsing from starvation? Plus, after all of the all nighters and forgetting to eat himself, only saved by his brother's constant demands (sometimes shoving food at him, or "accidentally" turning off the electricity at one in the morning to force him to sleep) to his health, didn't he owe him at least a little concern? How about years ago, when Stanley made him go to important events, or go on walks in the woods, just when he felt like tearing his hair out at his research? It was obvious Stanley was trying to help him during all this. He always put in so much effort to help Stanford, even though they fought a lot, admittedly, Stanley caused the most of it. Guilt at not being as caring as his brother drove him to compromise with himself.

_When I see him again, I'll as- Oh damn, I miscalculated here..._

He needed to focus. He was theorizing the ability to make a portal to another world. This was a big deal, and Stanford was certain he could create it. With all of the strange things in this town, he was sure he could pull off a completed design in a year or two. Finding the funds to build it, however, could take a while. He concentrated for a few days on his work, again not seeing his brother but on rare occasions of him passing quickly by in the hallways of the Shack. His brother seemed to be at least eating again, as he heard him in the kitchen sometimes.

One day, going to said tiny kitchen, he overheard Stanford muttering alone.

"Is it three...?.I don't...No closer. Damn thi..." The words were soft and he couldn't hear the majority of them. He came up behind him, trying to make heads or tails out of his twin's words, but they didn't seem to make sense. He tapped Stanley on the shoulder, and he could have sworn he jumped a foot into the air.

"Stanley, what's the matter?"

Stanley waved his hand at Stanford, visably relaxing when he saw it was him. "Nothing, Poindexter." His voice was strained.

Stanford never liked that nickname, and he felt irritation immediately from it. He much rather preferred "Ford", the affectionate childlike nick name Stanley had given him at a young age. But Stanley was walking away, and that was unusual, unless there was something wrong. It was a trait from their childhood, and Stanford understood why. He never had been a good socializer, didn't feel as strongly as his brother when it came to family and commitments, and he also had quite a temper. When Stanley came to him with problems, he'd handle them, but it did irritate him that Stanford was the only one his twin would go to. He had a life of his own, he couldn't always revolve around Stanley. But, when Stanley got distant, there was usually something very wrong. Countless times it had happened when they were kids, and it never ended well. It couldn't be a girl that was causing this, and it couldn't be money, his brother would find a way if it was.

"Wait," He called to Stanley, who immediately stopped. "Do you mind staying for a bit?"

Stanley looked at his brother carefully, and that's when Stanford saw his face more clearly. His eyes had unhealthily dark circles under them, and he had some lines on his face that weren't there before.

"What do you need?" Stanley asked, his voice revealing how tired he was. Stanford was curious at this point, and decided to find a way to guess what was going on. His project could wait for lunch.

"You're a better cook than I am. I don't want to eat any more canned beans."

\----

Stanley hesitated at his brother's words, then shrugged. "Alright."

He moved into the kitchen and pulled out some ingredients, moving them over to the small stove. His brother come in behind him and sat at the table. He was making a soup, which meant he could throw most of it together and leave as fast as possible. Stanley could handle waiting for it to boil, meaning he could go back to agonizing over what Bill was up to, while simultaneously evading the triangle as much as possible. He had lost two more years when the demon had caught up to him, and if he started to lose them any faster, he wasn't going to look anything close to convincingly his twin's age.

"So, Stanley. What have you been doing lately?" His brother asked him in an even voice.

Stanley's head whipped up from the pot, looking over his shoulder at his brother, but he was working on something and not paying attention to him. Stanford must have been filling the silence with small-talk and would most likely not be listening to the answer. He could mix in a bit of the truth so he would feel less guilty about hiding everything.

"Nothing really. I've been finding more items with the Big Fish on them."

"The Big Fish?" Stanford asked, crossing something out. Stanley threw some cut up vegetables into the pot. He felt a little dizzy, swaying until he gripped the counter so tightly with his hands, the knuckles turned white.

"That stupid thing on the fez," He replied, "It's been showing up everywhere." Probably meant to torment him.

"Really?" His brother's voice sounded intrigued. "Tell me more about it."

"I don't know, it's gold, and red. It seems to be stalking me." Stanley half-joked, because it really was in a way, he knew Bill was doing it. He finished putting things into the pot and turning to leave.

He got all the way to the door before Stanford's voice spoke again. "Will you look at this? I think I've worn out my brain mulling it over."

Stanley froze. His brother was asking for his help on his work? That was new, and he really wanted to...but he still needed to go work on his own issue.

"I don't think I'm really going to be much help." Stanford stood up, giving Stanley the piece of paper and motioning to the table.

"I think you will be."

Stanley sighed, sitting down at the table and spreading the sheet out, his eyes moving quickly over the words.

"You're being too literal, Ford." He slipped into another one of his old nicknames for his twin without even thinking about it. He pointed to a section, roughing out a shape for the portal. "And the square won't support the power needed for it." He yawned, "The bottom will collapse. This is one of those rare times the top needs to be heavier than the bottom."

"Well see, you were helpful. Thanks, Stanley." Stanford pulled the paper back towards himself, drawing a quick sketch of an upside down triangle with supports all around it. He pushed it back to Stanley. "Will this work?"

"If the power works the right way...how are you going to make it work by the way?"

\----

The two exchanged ideas for the portal for hours, stopping to spoon soup into their bowls and continue. With the teamwork by the legendary Mystery Twins, both brothers forgot for a while what they were so stressed about. Stanford attempted to pry some answers out of Stanley, in as casual of a way as he could, but his brother would not budge, turning the conversation back to the work, an easy thing to distract Stanford with.

They joked and worked late into the night, and Stanley ended up asleep among the paperwork, exhausted. Stanford continued to work, still unsatisfied with how his brother was doing. His brother was too stubborn to let anyone know something was wrong, if only he could find out what was going on in his head. His eyes flashed to his jacket, where he always kept Journal #1 when he had it. Stanford was a curious man, he need to know, especially since Stanley was helping him get things done. But if Stanley wasn't going to tell him...He could always find out himself, with help.

He could trust Bill.


	5. Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford ventures into Stanley's mind, looking for answers.

Stanford should feel bad about an invasion of privacy such as this, but considering Stanley did the same thing to him multiple times, he wasn't too concerned with the questionable morals of entering his twin’s head. It had been pretty easy to do; he had summoned Bill to ask him for his help. Bill hadn't come at first, but when he finally did arrive, and finish his spiel of laughing and making a dramatic entrance, Stanford had asked him to take him into Stanley’s dreams and find out what was going on. He explained that his twin was hiding something. The demon was strangely hesitant at first, but with some insistence, he instructed him on what to do. He’d needed to be in there first so that the ability to go into Stanley’s head was possible. He had done so, and then Stanford did the ritual needed to get into his brother’s head. It was strange at first, the shadowy colors and overall creepy appearance of the Shack being unnerving, but he had moved on after a moment. He was supposed to meet Bill somewhere inside.

He walked by a gray memory of him and his brother swinging on the beach, and opened the door to the sort-of Mystery Shack. He was bombarded with images from Stanley's memory, some he remembered, some things he didn't. The memories were all organized by event, other people in them, and timeline memories. Stanford walked by the door labeled “Ford Memories.” The temptation to go in and snoop was there, but Stanford knew he had to stay on task. Who knew how long Stanley was going to remain asleep. He walked swiftly past Stanley’s childhood, teenage years, and stopped at his early twenties. He was about to open that door, his hand hovering over the handle, when another door down the hallway caught his eye. It read “Late Twenties.” That was strange, they were only 23. Late twenties began at the earliest at 26 years old. Perhaps memories created doors early? Maybe Stanley had thought about his future in the next few years.

_No, that doesn’t make sense; memories only cover events that have already happened._

Stanford thought back to his brother’s appearance earlier. He did have a few wrinkles that weren’t there before, and definitely didn’t match his, being more defined. In a town as strange as Gravity falls, his age could have been affected.

He dropped his hand from the “Early Twenties” door and moved over to the “Late Twenties” door. He turned the knob and pushed it open, coming face to face with Stanley. He was startled and thought that he had been caught, but he realized Stanley couldn’t see him. There was a light shield in between the door and him. Stanley turned away from the door and began pacing back and forth. He was in the attic, a strange place for Stanley to be, considering he had a room all to himself downstairs, and had always been a little creeped out by the attic. When they were just out of high school, they had done most of their mysterious things together up there, and some of them would be a bit scary to anyone, especially Stanley, the less brave of the two of them.

Now Stanley was talking, but Stanford couldn’t hear him. His brother was rubbing his face, obviously trying to stay awake. The lighting out the small window was dark, and the moon was high in the sky, casting its white light through the window. His mouth was moving, and he appeared to be arguing with himself. There were papers everywhere, but for Stanford to see what they said, he’d have to enter the room. He could always go up into the attic himself and check when he got back.

He waited another minute or two, hoping he could hear what his brother had to say, to no avail. He closed the door and moved back to “Early Twenties.” He opened that one and entered the corridor of memories. Bill was waiting in there for him.

“Finally!” Bill exclaimed. “What took you so long, Six?”

Out of every nickname people called him, Stanford hated this one the most. It was obviously a derogatory comment to the fact he had 6 fingers instead of 5 on his hands. He responded to the bright yellow triangle:

“I got distracted by a strange memory.” Bill scrutinized him, and then motioned behind him, to the many doors.

“Well, kid, it happens. Let’s get going, we don’t have a ton of time.”

Bill was going to help? He was glad of it, Bill is the most trustworthy mystical being he’d ever met, but he generally didn’t like to get his hands dirty. Stanford nodded to him and opened the first door.

\---

They worked through the doors down the hallway, looking for something suspicious. Near the end of the hallway now, Stanford was wondering if he had missed something from one of the earlier ones. He sighed and opened the door in front of him. Stanley was tearing the house apart, looking for something. Deciding it was probably unimportant, he began to close the door.

“Stanford is going to kill me,” The Stanley in the memory groaned. Stanford paused, then opened the door back up, curious. Why would he kill Stanley? What had he lost?

“How could I have lost it?” Stanley sank down to the floor. The memory ended.

Stanford went to the next door, Stanley was looking once again, glancing at the calendar every time he passed it. It was a few days before Stanford came to the shack that summer.

“He trusted you with this,” Stanley muttered to himself. “How could you lose it? He spent so long making this.”

Stanford still wondered what was missing, and deciding this memory was almost over, he was about to leave when he heard; “Dammit Journal.”  _My journal? But Stanley had it when I arrived._  Mildly annoyed at Stanley being so careless in the first place, he went to open the next door. It was locked.  _What?_

He pulled on the door.

Still locked. He turned over to look at Bill, who had been opening a door across the hall. The triangle couldn’t open his either.  _What in the world…?_

“Bill, can’t you open these?”

The demon shook his head. “We don’t have enough time. Big Fish is too good at shielding his mind. He must know we’re here.”

 _Big Fish? Wasn’t that what Stanley called the fez symbol?_  Stanford opened his mouth to ask a question, but decided better of it. He tried the handle again, pulling on the door as hard as he could.

“What are you doing here!?” Stanley’s angry voice yelled from behind him. Stanford whipped around.


	6. Chapter 6

“Stanley, I can explain,” He said calmly, ironically mirroring his brother from not too long ago. Stanley’s eyes went from between the door and his brother; he looked hurt, and…scared for some reason.

“Yeah, we aren’t doing anything bad!” Bill cheerfully added, floating over behind Stanford’s shoulder. Stanley’s face turned white at the sight of Bill. “Besides, we can’t even open these.”

Bill pointed to the door Stanford was going to open, laughing.

Stanley’s jaw set, glaring at Bill. “Get out.”

Stanford thought Bill and Stanley had resolved their differences, why was Stanley being so hostile? As Bill moved back a few feet, he approached Stanley, speaking in a comforting tone;

“Look, Stanley-” He cut off as Stanley glared at him, but he looked more sad than angry.

“You too. Leave.” Stanley turned away from his twin.

“Stanl-”

“No.”

“Lee.” Stanley’s back stiffened, and he turned back to his brother, his eyes softening.

“Ford.”

“What did I do? Why don’t you trust me?” His brother flinched at the last words, and Stanford felt a little twinge of regret at them. That was a low blow to Stanley, who had always trusted his brother with everything, and Stanford knew it. He had to know what was going on, though; “Why did you lock the doors?”

“I  _didn’t_ ,” Stanley responded quietly. The deep circles under his eyes stood out now more than ever in the dim, eerie lighting.

“Does this have to do with losing the Journal? Because there’s no harm, you found it.”

“It’s not that,” Stanley protested. “Then what is it? What’s wrong??” Stanford was trying his best to be patient, but he hated how dodgy his brother got about his problems. Stanley was looking past him, to where Bill was. The expression on his face was one of pure rage.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he insisted and sighed, pulling Stanford out of the corridor. “Let’s just go.”

“You will tell me later.” Stanford stated as they passed through the house.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready, Ford. Now, out,” Stanley pushed his brother out the door of the shack, and Bill followed him a second later.

The door slammed shut. Stanford turned to talk to Bill, but he was already waking up.

Stanley was where he left him, still asleep in the papers. Stanford gathered them all up, gently pulling them away from under Stanley’s arms. He knew his brother would forgive him; he always did, even when Stanford wouldn’t forgive him back. He ordered the papers in order of importance to the topic they were discussing. It took him about half an hour. He expected Stanley would be sleeping for a while, and probably wouldn’t appreciate him moving him this time around. Stanford looked closely at his brother’s face; he wondered how Stanley had aged so much. Maybe that would be part of his brother’s explanation. If not, he’d have to make it a part of his explanation. He pulled a blanket from the living room into to the kitchen and put it over his brother. He sat down and waited, looking back over the work they did.

\----

Stanley leaned against the door to the Mystery Shack in his mind, knowing Bill was still on the other side. Couldn’t he go away? Didn’t he torture him enough every time he fell asleep?

“I could leave. But that’s not very grateful of you, if you ask me. I did you a favor back there.” Bill was in front of him. Stanley knew the door wouldn’t work for very long, but that was fast.

“You brought my brother into my mind. What part of that is a favor? What if he had seen what happened? You would have been in serious trouble, yourself.” Stanley yelled, then thought back to what had just happened, “Good thing those doors were…oh.”

“Exactly.” Bill sang, and Stanley could just hear that shit eating grin his voice was giving. He locked the doors himself, and then pretended Stanley had done it. It was clever; he had to hand it to the demon. Stanley straightened, staring at Bill.

“You didn’t hide that I had lost the journal. You  _do_  realize I have no motive to keeping this a secret then, right? Stanford already knows I screwed up, but found some way to fix it.”

“Kid. Truuuust me. You do not want to tell your brother what’s going on,” Bill threw his arm around Stanley’s shoulders, motioning in front of them as Stanley pulled the arm off of him. “Picture this. Your brother is in the middle of a groundbreaking discovery, when all the sudden, he has to take care of his annoying twin that’s already so screwed over that he can’t save you. On top of that, you and his most trusted informant, me, are battling for his trust. Six’ll end up trusting neither of us, and lock himself away. Do you want that?”

No, he did not want that. He worked hard for his brother’s trust, he’d never get it back. He jabbed a finger into Bill’s chest.

“Why don’t you tell me what your big plan is then? If I can’t tell anyone, what would be the harm?”

“Hmmm.” Bill batted his hand away and Stanley winced, it burned. He overdramatically made it look like he was considering it. “Nope!”

_Of course not._

“Oh and by the way, you can stop avoiding sleeping now. I get the point; you hate me, yada yada. I can easily put you into a coma if I want to talk to you. Don’t think I won’t just knock you out either. I don’t care if you’re on the roof when I do it. ” The shack fell away and they were on the edge of the roof, but the ground below had turned into a giant ravine. Stanley, having a huge fear of heights, slid back as far as he could. Bill leaned in close, whispering. “And stop looking into what I’m doing.”

Stanley leaned away from Bill, clutching the tiles on the roof. He had no intention of doing either, and the demon knew it. Bill shrugged.

“Knocking you out whenever I want, it is. I’ve given you way too much leeway, Big Fish. That ends now. Get off your high horse.”

Stanley knew what was coming next, but he was still terrified as Bill pushed him off of the roof.


	7. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What to do now?

His eyes snapped open and he jerked upright, the feeling of falling still washing over him. He was at the table, again, and it looked like the sun was either coming up or going down. Had he slept only the night, or did he sleep a whole day more? The papers he had fallen asleep with were all gone, as were the bowls, and it looked like Stanford had otherwise cleaned up. His brother was such a clean freak, but only when he wanted to be.

Stanley stood up, stretching out his back. He didn’t see the nerd anywhere. His brother must have gone back to his research.

Stanley was going to go back to the attic to do his own work. As he walked up the stairs, he thought back to his conversation with Bill. Maybe not having his brother’s trust would be worth it to warn him about Bill, and perhaps Stanford could help. Bill seemed to like Stanford too much to hurt him. He had helped Ford into his brain, and tried his best to make everything look like Stanley’s paranoid hostility from before, playing the innocent nice guy.

He really wanted Stanford’s friendship; that was clear. Would that be enough, though? Bill still was a demon, and he might kill his brother off even if he did entertain him.

Stanley opened the attic door without a second thought to why it would have been closed, and closed it behind him, fully expecting it to be the out-of-control mess it had been for weeks. The spotlessness threw him off guard, and he looked at the neat piles of papers, his fez lying innocently on top of them. It even looked like the room had been swept. A lump formed in his throat. Stanford had been in here, and stacked those papers. That meant he most likely read through them all.

Stanley’s memory zoomed through of all of the things he had written. Had he mentioned Bill by name? He hadn't. Maybe he had called him a demon, but he’d been paranoid that if he wrote the triangle’s name, he would show up. The thing he did mention a lot was his aging issue because that was the easiest to look into, and most clear cut.

He shuffled through the papers, looking for anything else that he may have written, toppling his fez off of the top. A note fluttered to the ground with the fez. His eyes zeroed in on it when he recognized the scrawling, tiny handwriting. He picked up his brother’s note, reading through the writing.

_Stanley, I didn’t read any of the papers, but it was tempting after seeing the mess up here. Now come find me, we’re going to have a brother to brother talk, and you’re going to tell me why you’re suddenly in your mid-twenties._

He didn’t take any of them? He didn’t read any? That was hard for Stanley to believe, his over curious brother didn’t pass up clues.

But, he was waiting for him. He had to go down and talk to him, he'd come up with a way to satisfy his brother without giving anything substantial away.

He looked down at his work. There was no way he could lie to his brother about what these were if there was still the proof here. He patted down his pockets, searching for his lighter. He suddenly realized that he hadn't smoked in weeks. There was no need for a lighter if he didn't light up a cigarette, so he guessed he hadn't had one on him in a while. Oh well. He'd sneak out and burn them later. Scooping up the fez, he left the room, pulling the door closed and locking it.

Stanley now had to decide whether he should go find his brother or not. If he didn't go, Stanley might come up to find him, but then again, his brother was easily distracted by research. He looked back down at the note in his hands, the words were scrawled deeply into the paper, the force behind them obvious. Stanford was pissed off. It'd be best to come up with something quick. He could always blame a random demon. Say he didn't know his name. Stanford would believe that, he dealt with weirder.

He pocketed the key, knowing he was the only one with one to the attic door. He walked down the stairs, looking into his brother's room as he passed it. Stanford was there, back turned to him. Stanley took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the frame. His twin's head whipped up, his eyes focusing on Stanley.

"Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" Ford asked his brother shortly, placing down the quill he was using. His eyes were hard, he wasn't going to let this go. "Why are you suddenly older? How old are you?"

"I'm 26, Stanley. And I'm going to continue aging like this." Stanley started, avoiding his gaze. "I did a stupid thing, and there's really nothing you can do about it."

"I don't believe that." Stanford replied, he pulled out his journal, flipping pages quickly. "I've done a lot more than expected here in Gravity Falls. What did you do? Is it a curse? I think I could figure out how to lift it."

Stanley inhaled sharply between his teeth. "No. It's not a curse. I...made a deal with a demon." He showed his brother the fez, knowing the lie of the intriguing object would be enough for his brother to believe. "It has to do with this. It's everywhere, and things have been calling me by it's name."

"Bill included?"

"Yes." Stanford nodded, obviously believing it.

"Was the deal with Bill too?"

"No." There was no hesitation in the answer. Stanley could just hear the smug laughter of the demon. The triangle had him trapped in this, and now he was going to have to actively lie to his brother, instead of just ignoring him


End file.
